Closer To The Brink
by Erased In Flame
Summary: Resurrected by the shady splinter group, Cerberus, Shepard is tasked with compiling a team of the most talented soldiers and mercenaries to vanquish the threat of the Collectors. Tensions and suspicions arise as old friends cross paths, and rivalries form among Shepard's team. He struggles to keep his friends close, and his mind in one piece. Sequel to Come What May.
1. Prologue: Urdnot Wrex

The nuclear winds were calm on this night of Tuchanka. Wrex breathed in through his colossal nose, smelling the rancid singe of the soil, a result of radiation.

Wrex would have seen it fitting to witness a great sandstorm, to honor the death of a respected warrior. For on this day, two galactic years ago, Wrex lost a valuable friend to an unknown threat. The krogan believed it to be a greater respect to Shepard's memory for the night to remain a somber, quiet event.

The feeling was alien to the krogan. He believed he'd lost his emotional capacity for sorrow. Yet nothing struck his heart with such grief as this.

Wrex truly believed a companion was taken from him. Since he'd left Tuchanka, other individuals were mere pyjaks. Yet Shepard anchored him to reality. The krogan had been so lost, turning to pathetic diversions to push everything else away. What a coward he'd been, and, oh, how he'd underestimated Shepard's influence and understanding.

Normally, Wrex's compassion would be cast over by the shadow of his stubborn disposition, but he would easily admit that Shepard changed his opinion about humans. They seemed to be pests, clasping desperately with their incompetent, covetous fingers at every foothold to gain in the galaxy.

But Wrex stood back and observed with some objectivity. He came to realize he'd mistaken human eagerness with almost indestructible vigor. Of course, krogan were usually mandated as the biggest brutes of the galaxy, but humans were armed not only with their technology, but also their insatiable hunger for survival and prosperity.

This process can be described as destructive and intrusive to other races, but Wrex couldn't resist beholding them with fond admiration. With sheer numbers and incredible willpower, humans could take control of the Citadel, the galaxy, everything. But even then, there was a restraint, a noble initiative of doing fairly unto its galactic neighbors.

Wrex was fascinated by this, for he knew that was what the people of Tuchanka lacked. The krogan are tenacious, unforgiving. Reasoning of this fact by other races gave birth to the Genophage. The krogan were condemned to a slow extinction.

But Shepard was an icon, a paradigm of human potential. A potential the krogan desperately need if they want to survive the Genophage. Wrex believes that by uniting the krogan clans, and helping them to reach for a peaceful future, he could save them all, and place krogan among one of the most respected races of the galaxy, much like the humans.

Wrex breathed in deeply, releasing the air of Tuchanka out of his nose. He silently prayed for Shepard's peaceful, eternal rest as he turned to the members of his clan and prepared to deliver yet another speech to further solidify his leadership.

* * *

**And here it is, everyone! I hope it wasn't too big of a disappointment for a first chapter. I plan to make prologues for all of the squadmates, so stay tuned to see everyone's reaction to the two year mark of Shepard's death. Please R&R! Let me know how I did.**


	2. Prologue: Liara T'Soni

Liara T'Soni watched the conventional, everyday traffic of the colorful metropolis that was Illium. She admired how the sun remained behind the slender figures of the skyscrapers the planet was known for. Only small slivers of light managed to slip past in the cracks between, illuminating Liara's office in an unusual, yet relaxing pattern.

She was unsure whether it really was relaxing, or if she had just grown accustomed to the front view of her office. She'd been confined to this space for years now, becoming weary of the challenging career of an information broker. She'd resorted to disclosing heinous threats to her less cooperative clients, selling protection from mercenaries for a pathetically helpless silver-tongued volus with a knack for gaining rivals.

The lonely asari exhaled, a silenced cry for a companion, a friend to confide in. She'd broke contact with all of them so long ago... on that day. The day when Shepard passed.

She nearly cried out verbally, realizing that today marked two years since Shepard had been killed by Collectors, according to what Cerberus had told her.

Cerberus... Their agents would occasionally contact her, ensuring her that the revival of Shepard was continuing as planned. At this rate, Shepard would be back from the dead within months, a task unimaginable; even with today's technology.

Liara never failed to ask the goddess if she'd made the right choice. If she was justified in turning over Shepard's body to Cerberus. Even if they were successful, would he be the same? Would he still be the Commander Shepard he was while on the SR-1? Or would he return a twisted cyborg Cerberus had grown fond of addressing as 'Shepard'?

She glided her gloved fingers over her face. That exact thought haunted her dreams. Shepard, raised from hell as nothing but a mindless zombie to carry out Cerberus' will. The guilt would eat her alive, not to mention that she would be subject to the wrath of her former friends if they ever found out she was responsible for Cerberus' acquisition of his body.

Even now, she would sometimes collapse in the doorway of her own apartment, littering the floor with tears. The shame was like a dagger in her chest. Until she witnessed the final product of Cerberus' efforts, these crooked apprehensions would never leave her.

She sighed, shaking her head to rid her mind of nightmarish possibilities. Few hours remained in the day, yet she had plenty of work to catch up on, plenty of clients placing their lives in her hands, plenty of enemies quietly waiting for a chance to take a knife to her throat.

She sat before her desk, rebooting her computer to check the thousands of different messages she must have received during her break.

* * *

**And here's Liara's chapter. Been looking forward to writing this quite a while. Hopefully I didn't screw it up too bad. Also, I'm not sure about this whole process, but I've seen some stories with artwork that has a cool picture with the name of the story on it. I don't know if I can request for someone to make one for me, and I'm not directly asking for anyone to, but it would be nice. Especially since I can't find any _decent_ images anywhere that I can use as the artwork for this fanfic. If you know anything about this, feel free to inbox me. I don't bite. Till next chapter!**


	3. Prologue: Ash Williams & Kaidan Alenko

_-You know you can trust me, right? I'm always here for you._

_-Yes, I know. Thank you._

_-I know that you've probably heard it before, but... I guess... just try not to think about it._

_-I have. And I can't. I think about it constantly. But it's not like I'm torturing myself. It makes me feel safer knowing that wherever he is, he's watching over me._

_-That's good. Just try not to overdo it, okay?_

_-I can try. Thank you, Kaidan._

_-No problem. I'll talk to you later, alright? Take care of yourself, Tali._

_-Likewise_

...

Kaidan reluctantly disconnected the terminal from the extranet, sighing and resting his elbows on the desk before him. Placing his chin on his knuckles, he glared intensively at nothing in particular. He'd decided to contact Tali today, since today marked two years since Shepard fell prey to threat unknown.

He was worried that he was losing his connection to Tali. Since Shepard was killed, it had become progressively worse, as if Tali was gradually cutting herself off from reality and drowning herself in sorrow. When everyone first learned of Shepard's death, it tore the poor girl apart. She was manic for about a week, until the funeral services were held in Shepard's honor. Then she seemed like a ghost. She said nothing to anyone, and sat alone until Kaidan decided to comfort her with his presence, to which, to his dismay, she had no response.

He messaged her occasionally, despite exhaustion from mission after mission. He always found the time to check up on her. Shepard would want that.

But Tali's sudden self-induced isolation alarmed him. Sometimes, even, it felt like everything was falling apart. He worried that Tali would break under the pressure and... hurt herself.

_I guess that even after two years, a heart could still be bleeding._

Kaidan heard the door slide open from behind him, evoking him to spin in his chair to see who'd entered. Ashley met his gaze with a somber smile as she tiptoed inside.

"Hey, you.", she muttered softly as she gingerly glided her hands on Kaidan's shoulder.

"Hey."

She slid into a sitting position as she plopped down on the bottom bunk of the beds within their apartment.

"So, what have you been doing in here alone?", she prodded.

"Decided to check up on Tali today. See how she was doing."

Ashley's brow furrowed as she nodded, remembering what today's date symbolized. "Have you gotten her to open up any?"

Kaidan exhaled heavily, shaking his head despondently. "It's just getting worse. Honestly... I'm worried about her."

Ashley sighed as well, shifted into a more comfortable position. "Remember those couple of weeks after it happened? We were the same way, you know. We were broken, Kaidan. Lost. I remember you telling me that you didn't know what to do with yourself anymore."

"Shepard was a good friend. One of my best friends, really. It just... hit me so hard."

"Relax.", Ashley demanded, making a halting notion with her hand. "It hit us _all_ hard."

A silence hung for a few moments before Kaidan wiped the sweat off his brow and a ragged, labored breath escaped Kaidan's lungs.

"I miss him.", he uttered solemnly.

"I know.", Ashley replied with empathy as she stood to approach him. "I miss him too, Kaid."

As they wrapped around each other in an embrace, her mind drifted to Shepard. He always knew what to do, how to do it, what to say, how to say it. Nothing got past him.

Ashley felt the stinging desire to release a tear, of which she shed so many two years before now. She prayed and hoped that Tali had found some source of solace on this day. Someone or something to leech her affliction.

God knows she didn't deserve this heartbreak.

* * *

**It feels like I didn't do as well with this one as I did with Liara's or Wrex's... or maybe it's just me. Maybe. Anyway, hope you liked it! Please R&R!**


	4. Prologue: Garrus Vakarian

**Sorry for the late update, everyone. Had to straighten out some internet problems. Hope you enjoy this one.**

* * *

Garrus Vakarian rid himself of the wretched helmet, throwing it across the room as he plopped down on the couch with an infuriated air about him.

All of them, every last one of them. Killed. Betrayed by that damn, good-for-nothing Sidonis. Hell, he trusted him. He'd put his life in the man's hands.

Yet, he'd found a way to secure his dissolution from Garrus' vengeful grasp. After selling his entire team out to the mercenaries, Sidonis has neither the audacity nor the respect to finish Garrus off. He'd abandoned him within his own hell. Such a hell that was all too familiar to the weary turian.

Garrus decided to make a personal vow to himself. He'd have Sidonis' skull if it was the last thing he did. Even if he met his demise wreaking vengeance and fury upon the traitor, there would be no hesitation. No mercy. Only death would Garrus leave in his wake.

Aiming a blind barrage of anger into the darkness, Garrus unleashed round after round from his Vindicator rifle, wishing to no avail that it was Sidonis who was on the brunt end of the gunfire.

Finally, the rifle squealed and ceased its fire, indicating that the thermal clip had overheated.

Garrus roared with bitter fury, tossing the worthless weapon into the throng of nothingness before him, oblivious to where it might fall.

The turian buried his face in his hands as the back end of his armor collided with the wall. He sunk to the ground, unable to control his hysterical lament for his fallen comrades. His failure as a leader. Shepard.

Even from within his clouded mind, Garrus realized that today, about two years ago, Shepard had been killed, the Normandy going down in flames with him inside.

Realizations hit him like a punch in the gut. He pondered what Tali was feeling at this moment. He wondered how Ashley, Kaidan, Liara, and Wrex are handling this moment. He sighed, tears still running over the scars he'd collected over the last two years.

The Council destroyed any evidence of the Reaper threat, reducing it to a mere rumor to be, once again, ignored by the masses. Anyone that came forth with the same accusations as Shepard to prove Reaper existence was silenced without reasonable consideration.

...The galaxy was going to burn without Shepard. Spirits know Garrus is already in the furnace. It's only a matter of time until he falls in a pile of ashes.

Hoping to shake off his sentiments, he climbed to his feet. If the mercs wanted him so bad, he'd give himself to them. But they were going to have to fight to win a strike at Garrus' neck. They will sacrifice everything to sever Archangel's head from his body.

The streets of Omega will be stained red with blood.


	5. Prologue: Jeff Moreau

Joker groaned inwardly as the burning liquid slithered down his throat. It was on nights like these when he would mosey his way to the nearest bar to obtain the true cure for bad memories. Alcohol.

Because, on nights like these, he was reminded of what he saw two years ago from today. Those eyes going right through his own; begging for him to do something. Begging for life. Too young to die.

He took another heaping mouthful as he felt the sting in his chest begin to throb. There was no point in shaking the cage when he knew it would do more harm than good. After all, he'd never forget. Not permanently. Only when remembering it was too much. Then Joker would douse the fire with the strongest beer a human wouldn't die from.

Even then, he'd see those eyes staring at him from the bottom of the bottle. Behind him in the mirror. And, cliché as it sounded, even his dreams weren't free from the chiding eyes of his former commander.

Joker hoped Shepard wasn't angry at him for killing him. He _did_ insist on staying behind. Had he not, Shepard might have been sharing this drink with him.

Dealing with guilt was not Joker's strong suit. Especially guilt involving death. This would either end badly or with a noose. Without the presence of alcohol, Joker might have been more inclined to the latter.

Something else always seemed to be there to change his mind, as well. He couldn't differentiate whether it was plain survival instinct, or a therapeutic conscience. Whatever it was, it's kept him alive this long.

The inebriated pilot sensed a presence of someone to his right. Sluggishly lolling his head over, he found that a woman had taken the seat next to him at the bar. A dark-skinned human woman, presumably in her mid-thirties.

The woman didn't hesitate to grab his attention.

"What's a good-looking guy like you doing here, drinking all by his lonesome?"

Joker grumbled as he regained his posture. "I'm pretty sure it would be classified as date rape if _you_ were the one drinking. Not vice versa."

That awarded him an honest chuckle. "Well, you look like you could use some cheering up. I'd like for you to meet somebody."

A card slid next to Joker's hand, with a strange black and orange symbol decorating the center of it. Normally, he would have jumped out of his seat screaming; but he knew better, given his intoxicated status.

The woman was with Cerberus, and she seemed to carry herself in such a condescending manner, like she was better than everyone else.

Once the woman surmised that Joker had gotten a good look at the symbol, she gingerly flipped it over, an address typed in bold print coming into view.

She then hunched herself over, her lips almost contacting with Joker's ear. "Shepard is alive.", she muttered, answering all of Joker's questions before they escaped his tongue.

* * *

The room was dimly lit, reminding Joker of the vintage interrogation scenes that were present in many old human vids. Cerberus had him sit in this room, claiming that the person they wanted him to meet would be there soon.

Joker obliged, hoping he hadn't just walked into some kind of trap without any second thoughts like an idiot. He'd been sitting there for almost an hour, twiddling his thumbs in poor illumination.

He soon decided that he'd get up and leave. Obviously, whoever was going to meet him found something better to do. But just as he was about to push his chair out from the table to rise to his feet, a pale blue light ignited from a small display on the opposite side of the room. As a dull hum filled the room, a synthesized feminine voice addressed him. It sent chills down his spine to know that even a Cerberus V.I. knew his name.

"Good morning, Mr. Moreau."

Joker remained silent, almost afraid to respond. Was this a joke? Was this what Cerberus wanted him to meet? Some random V.I.? To his surprise, the voice repeated itself after a brief period of silence.

"Mr. Moreau?"

Soon realizing that it was too intelligent to be a V.I. Joker presumed that he wasn't going to get away with silence. It knew he was in the room with it.

"U-uh... Yes?"

"Ah. Hello."

...There was no way. Did an A.I. just convey an emotion? Just what the hell was this thing?

"I'm only here to ask you a couple of questions. As you know, Cerberus has disclosed that Commander Shepard's revival is nearing completion. But these questions will not be about Commander Shepard. Do you understand?"

Joker still didn't believe Cerberus when they told him that Shepard was alive. He saw him get thrown into space by a giant death laser. There was no living from that, was there?

Clearing his head, Joker decided to focus on the process at hand. "Um, yes. I understand."

"Good. First question: What is your opinion on A.I. programs aboard Alliance vessels?"

Joker was a bit surprised that was the first question. It confused him even more that it wasn't about his past experiences on the Normandy, or even his credentials. Just his opinion on A.I. aboard Alliance vessels? What the hell?

"Well, uh... Unethical, I guess. It's dangerous to have an A.I. aboard a vessel. Sometimes, they're capable of biased thought, and think for themselves. It puts the crew at serious risk. The Alliance learned that the hard way."

"Noted. Second question: If the A.I. were in control of only some ship-wide operations, which would increase overall efficiency without sacrificing crew safety, would your opinion change? If so, how?"

This was definitely an A.I. What Cerberus planned to do with it was beyond him. But something was strange about it. It almost seemed like it could convey human emotion. An impossible capacity, even for a high level A.I.

Jeff sighed. Maybe it would be safer to play along. Perhaps it's just a test for some kind of experimental A.I. Hell, maybe he could get some answers out of it himself.

"I'll answer your question.", Joker muttered slyly. "But first, you'll answer one of mine."

"Of course, Mr. Moreau.", it responded promptly

He leaned in closer, lowering his voice marginally. "What exactly are you? Some sort of A.I.?"

It was silent for a moment, seemingly to be contemplating about what to say. It flashed a brighter hue of blue as it replied.

"Cerberus usually refers to me as an Enhanced Defense Intelligence."

Joker furrowed his eyebrows. "And what exactly are you supposed to defend?"

Again, the A.I. was quiet. Silence hung for another minute or so before the voice disclosed an answer.

"Please, Mr. Moreau. I have answered one of your questions. Now you must answer one of mine."

There was something about the A.I. that rubbed him the wrong way. It was stubborn. Perhaps dangerous, if given too much control. Joker thought it best not to prod any more, and to go about the interview as normal, at least until he could get some real info.

* * *

**Props to SilentPony for giving me some very good ideas. The suggestions he gave really inspired me to write this. I had a lot of fun with this one. Now you guys know what's coming next! Stay tuned!**


	6. Prologue: Tali'Zorah vas Neema

Her fingers couldn't feel his skin anymore; they went straight through him, like a ghost. And befittingly so, his face haunted her sleep.

How was it fair? He was there, their heads touching, and his lips planted innocently on her visor. Another fit of tears stung her eyes. How could all of this just go away? How was it fair for her world to go in a blazing catastrophe?

The sting of loss had grown less potent over the years, but it was here to stay. Forced or not, she would always remember. She forced herself to summon this photograph from her omnitool on every day that marked another year. Whether it was self-inflicted retribution or a sharp reminder to never trust anyone again, she could not conclude.

Perhaps this annual glimpse into the past was a gateway to her locked nostalgic sentiments. Seeing his face reminded her of better times. A better life. Love.

Again, she pleaded in her mind: how is this fair? Why did it have to end like this?

Metal groaned and creaked as the door behind her slid back into the bulkhead.

She was almost oblivious to the voice calling her name before a hand found its grip on her shoulder.

She dismissed the photograph with one swift notion of her hand, twisting around to see another quarian with an odd grey and blue suit. Probably one of her father's associates.

"The Admiralty Board wishes to see you, Tali."

"What for?", she muttered with deliberate disinterest.

"One of our pilgrims, Veetor'Nara, hasn't responded to any of our efforts to contact him, and we have not heard from him in over two weeks.", he explained. "The Admiralty Board will present you with the full debrief, and afterwards, I will introduce you to your team."

"And if I say no?", Tali challenged bravely.

The male quarian's eyes blazed back at her, the intention to not leave the room without her evident in his tone. "The Admiralty Board has requested that you lead this mission, Tali'Zorah. Your father approves, and you will follow me, now."

Tali sighed bitterly at the mention of her father. He'd been nearly nonexistent since Tali's return to the Flotilla, claiming to be near critical breakthroughs in his experiments.

She shook her head. "When will we be outbound?", Tali demanded.

"Today.", the quarian spat impatiently. "Come with me."

He spared no time spinning on his heel to leave the room, physically demanded Tali to follow him to the Admiralty Board. Seeing as she had no choice now, she took one last look around her "house", and sluggishly meandered out, the door closing behind her.

A harsh fact punctured her heart as she heard the door lock into the bulkhead. This will be the rest of her life.

She clenched her fists, willing herself to shut off her emotions. She would be cold steel. Strong.

Just like Shepard had taught her.

* * *

**Sorry for the short chapter/late update, guys. As usual, I've been a bit busy. Although, I will admit a certain video game held my attention for a couple of days as well. If you haven't played "The Last of Us.", check it out. Amazing game. Next update will be, hopefully, soon. Till next time!**


	7. Reborn, Not Soon Enough

"Jesus, Hannah. You're killing me with this crap."

"Well, what do you expect me to say, John?! I'm at my wit's end! We don't have the money for this!"

"I know that. But do you really want to do this to him? Do you really want to disconnect from him like this? His whole life is gonna be screwed up."

"It'll be damn better than anything _we _can do... It breaks my heart to have to do this, but we don't have a choice, John. We're going to be squeezed dry within a few months."

"...Okay. As long as you're sure about this."

"I'm calling Ellen tomorrow. The sooner he's set up in an orphanage, the better."

...

"What? It's everybody's concern! If Saren brings the Reapers back, the galaxy is doomed."

"I know. But if I tried to tell my father, he'd never believe me. He doesn't believe anything anyone says to him unless they're a quarian."

"...We can drop you off at the Citadel if you want."

"What?! No! I want to stay with you!... Here, ...I mean... D-Don't you _want _me to stay?"

"Of course I do, Tali. But if I'm keeping you from doing what the Migrant Fleet needs you to do, I... I don't want you to get in trouble."

"Damon, I don't care about that. I care about being here, with you."

...

"No! Wait! Shepard? What about you?"

"I need to go get Joker. We'll make it out."

"I'll be alright... I love you."

"I love you too... Be safe..."

...

It was grey. Everything was grey. An image slowly weaved itself before him, a pale green tinted ceiling. There were voices, conversations directed amongst themselves.

_Where am I?_

Enveloped in a freezing numbness, he flexed his fingers, strength sluggishly returning.

"There. On the monitor. Something's wrong." An accented feminine voice. To whom it belonged, he did not know.

A coarse, masculine voice responded as black tided over again. "He's reacting to outside stimuli. Showing an awareness of his surroundings."

He took deeper breaths as he darted his eyes every which way, questing for liberation from where he lay.

"Oh my god, Miranda. I think he's waking up.

A woman in white approached from his left. "Dammit, Wilson! He's not ready yet. Give him the sedative!"

_No. No... What are you doing?_

The woman, who was so named 'Miranda' by her partner, placated him, placidly stroking his forehead. She pinned his hand down as he squirmed in protest.

"Shepard - Don't try to move. Just lie still. Try to stay calm."

Miranda's attempts to soothe his growing sentience were useless; he resumed his labored writhing until he felt his lungs crush.

"Heart rate still climbing. Brain activity is off the charts."

A faint beeping caught Miranda's attention. She deserted him to investigate as the male's voice rang out in urgency again.

"Stats pushing into the red zone. It's not working!"

A ghost gripped his throat. The choke of death stole his breath away. His eyes rolled back, only blurry light visible now.

"Another dose. Now!"

...The bony hand fell away as a breeze from the wind. It would not take him. Not now.

"Heart rate dropping. Stats falling back into normal range."

Again, Miranda's pale semblance hung over him, blue circles scanning him like a grid.

"That was too close. We almost lost him."

"I told you the estimates were off. Run the numbers again."

Only now had his mind finally drifted, allowing him to see beyond his plight. The woman was beautiful, her black hair hanging in his face. Unintentional. But not unpleasant.

It managed to lull his eyes closed. The dark came back, and still, he didn't know where he was.

* * *

"Wake up, Commander."

A tremendous shockwave thrashed him about, weakly rousing him from his lethargy.

"Shepard, do you hear me? Get out of that bed now; this facility is under attack!"

His eyes flung open, blazing pain arcing through his physique. Swinging a hand to his jaw by reflex to combat the ache, the voice calling his name above him resounded more clearly and prominent.

"Shepard, your scars aren't healed, but I need you to get moving; we're under attack."... Shepard recognized the airy Australian accent. Miranda.

Gaining cognizance of how he'd ended up on this table in the first place impacted him upon Miranda's mention of his scars. What had happened after the Normandy fell? All he could remember was being on a crash course to a celestial body.

Had he died in that attack? What the hell was happening?

Deducing that now would not be the best time to prod for answers, he pushed himself off the bed and onto his own two feet. Shakily regaining balance he hasn't actuated in an amount of time unknown to him, Miranda continued to bark orders through use of the intercom.

"There's a pistol in the locker on the other side of the room. Hurry!"

Glancing forward to see the flames lick at the windows and the stream of bullets speeding behind, Shepard garbed himself in the refined N7 armor, and snatched the pistol from the bottom of the locker.

Switching the safety, he noticed the odd model of the firearm. The right side adorned a small chamber, through which it could discharge a small container. A thermal clip. He understood how to use the weapon; it wasn't much different from the other type of mass accelerator weapon, save for the fact that instead of allowing the weapon to cool, the user must eject the overheated thermal clip, and replace it with a new one. It made for faster, less tedious combat.

But facing the weapon in a certain direction to peer inside the chamber revealed to Shepard that it was devoid of any such heat discharge.

"Damn thing doesn't have a thermal clip.", he muttered to himself bitterly.

"It's a med bay.", Miranda identified dully.

Shepard hadn't expected the room to have a two-way intercom. But since it was, indeed, a med bay, it made a bit of sense.

"We'll get you a clip from... Damn it! Watch out, Shepard! The canister is going to explode!"

Shooting a glimpse North of himself, Shepard found the aforementioned canister. A flame extricating itself from the inside was sure to cause a cruel explosion without much time to waste.

Diving behind cover to shield himself, the explosion did no damage to him. Yet, the torrid pulse of air singed the scars on his face.

What he wouldn't give to stick his head in a bucket of water right now...

"Someone's hacking security trying to kill you. Keep moving forward, I'll try to guide you via omnitool."

On cue, a transparent orange cylinder wrapping around Shepard's left arm beeped to life as Miranda's voice rang through clear as a bell.

"Can you hear me?", She tested.

"Loud and clear."

"To your left. A thermal clip."

And, right as rain, there lay a thermal clip, gathering dust in the corner of the wall, yet still combat-functional. It locked inside of the pistol with a satisfying click, signaling that personal defense was no longer an issue.

* * *

Somehow, the stars in space seemed different to him now. Not as bright. Not as beautiful. Almost like something had been drained. It bothered him. But he really wanted to know where his friends were. Garrus, Kaidan, Ashley, Garrus... Tali.

The face behind the purple visor clouded his every thought, even when trying to escape that facility. He'd demanded Jacob, the human he met inside the facility, to tell him where he could find her. As he expected, he didn't know.

Doesn't mean he won't look. It was his personal mission. Dead or alive, whatever Shepard was at this point, he _must _find her.

Miranda called him back into reality.

"Before you meet with the Illusive Man, we need to ask a few questions to evaluate your condition."

"Come on, Miranda. More tests?", Jacob scoffed. "Shepard took down those mechs without any trouble. That has to be good enough."

"It's been two years since the attack.", Miranda justified. "The Illusive Man needs to know that Shepard's personality and memories are still intact. Ask the questions."

Shepard furrowed his brow. "Did you say _two years_? I've been gone that long? ...W-What happened to my squad from the original Normandy? Where are they? You've got to have _something_ for me."

"I'm sorry, Commander.", Jacob offered. "Most of the crew from the original Normandy, we don't have tabs on anymore."

_I don't want your apologies. I want answers._

Shepard flinched away from clenching his fist, his mood shifting to a slow burn.

"But yes,", Jacob continued. "Two years and twelve days. And you were on an operating table for most of it."

"The sooner we start, the sooner we can be done", Miranda rejoined sharply. "Start with personal history."

"Okay.", Jacob conceded, eyeing his omnitool for Shepard's dossier. "Records show you grew up on Earth. Tough environment. No parents. You enlisted, and you survived a thresher maw attack that wiped out the rest of your team. Do you remember that?"

Shepard pursed his lips in grim reminiscence. He nodded his head gingerly as he admitted a somber response. "I lost a lot of friends that day. Going through something like that changes you. It can break you, if you let it."

"I read the report. Fifty marines died on Akuze. You were the only one who lived."

He turned to his right to stare Miranda down. "Satisfied?"

"Almost.", she retorted wittily. "Let's try something more recent. On the original Normandy, limited fraternization was allowed with your various alien squadmates, yet you pursued a relationship with one. A certain... 'Tali'Zorah nar Rayya.'. Do you remember her?"

Shepard's blood began to boil with fierce frustration. "I don't believe you have a right to prod at such a personal subject."

"Actually, I do.", Miranda challenged him. "We followed your every move because we knew how important you were. Your personal life was common knowledge here at Cerberus, Commander."

"Well, since you've dedicated your life to mine, maybe you can tell me where she is."

Shepard almost saw the corners of Miranda's mouth perk up in a fraction of a smile. "Or maybe the Illusive Man can tell you."

The bitch was enjoying this.

"No matter.", she condensed. "You obviously remember, given your arbitrary passion at the mention of the subject. In retrospect, your memory seems solid. But, there are other tests we really should run..."

"Come on, Miranda.", Jacob pleaded emphatically. "Enough with the quizzes. The memories are there, and I can vouch for Shepard's combat skills personally."

"I suppose you're right. We'll have to hope the Illusive Man accepts our little field test as evidence enough... Speaking of which, we're almost there."

The Cerberus operative stole another look at Shepard. "Hopefully, he can answer the rest of your questions. There's no doubt you have many of which neither Jacob or I could answer."

Shepard dropped his steely gaze to the floor.

_He'd better._

"Oh!", Miranda cried. "I almost forgot. I believe this is yours, Shepard."

Shepard's eyes found a perfectly smoothed stone. The dull blue-grey hue somehow managed to shine in the dim light of the shuttle. He took the stone between his thumb and index finger, holding it before him. He rested his elbows on his knees as he studied it for the rest of the ride.

_I'm going to find you, Tali._

_ I promise..._

* * *

**And so, he's finally awake. Hope you enjoyed! I would have updated sooner, but... yeah. I always have the lamest excuses don't I? Anyway, please review, and stay tuned; happy reunion on the way!**


	8. Lost And Found

"Commander Shepard.", the shady man addressed him. Smoke snaked from his lips as he breathed his name, delivering a frigid chill to Shepard's spine.

As he deposited the ash from his cigarette into a tray, Shepard quickly attained his identity.

"Illusive Man.", Shepard returned, equally icy. "I thought we'd be meeting face-to-face."

"A necessary precaution. Not unusual for people who know what you and I know."

"You don't know me. You may be the reason I'm alive. But that doesn't mean I trust you."

The Illusive Man seemed unimpressed by Shepard's display of detest. With the same cold, indifferent expression, he continued.

"You need to put your personal feelings aside. Humanity is up against the greatest threat of our brief existence."

A monstrous, angry being pervaded Shepard's mind. A voice he's forgotten, but still lurked in the darkest corners of his consciousness.

Shepard grimaced in bitter recognition. "The Reapers."

"Good to see your memory's still intact. How are you feeling?"

The Illusive Man's faulty attempt at making nice came as an insult to Shepard. He knew of Cerberus' dark reputation. Hell if he was going to be friends with this bastard.

"You need to _earn _the right to ask me those kinds of questions."

The Illusive Man rose his hand in contradictory disagreement. "Cerberus isn't as evil as you believe. You and I are on the same side; we just have different methods."

Shepard grew irritable as the Illusive Man spewed his pseudo-amiable junk. He didn't truly believe Shepard was this gullible, did he?

Shaking his head, Shepard prodded for an answer. "Cut to the chase. What are Reapers doing that made you decide to bring me back?"

Sighing, The Illusive Man pushed himself to his feet. Heinous, cybernetic irises gauged him with infallible sincerity.

"We're at war. No one wants to admit it, but humanity is under attack. While you've been sleeping, entire colonies have been disappearing. Human colonies. We believe it's someone working for the Reapers. Just as Saren and the geth aided Sovereign."

He closed the distance between them, gesturing to him with his hand. "You've seen it yourself. You bested all of them. That's just one reason we chose you."

Shepard couldn't accurately determine lies from the truth. After all, he couldn't be sure of anything at the moment. He's been absent from the galactic scene for the past two years. Anything could have happened. But he wasn't too inclined to believe the Cerberus poster boy himself, The Illusive Man.

"Nothing you say is going to convince me to trust you. I need more than words."

A meager curve of a smile that seemed to be inherent in most Cerberus agents creased the man's face.

"I'd be disappointed if I could persuade you that easily. Go and see for yourself."

The Illusive Man turned away from the arctic gap between them, retreating back to his chair. "I have a shuttle ready to take you to Freedom's Progress, the latest colony to be abducted. Miranda and Jacob will brief you."

Shepard slanted his eyes at his tall request. "Is this a volunteer job or am I _being_ volunteered?"

"You always have a choice, Shepard. If you don't find the evidence we're both looking for, we can part ways. But first, go to Freedom's Progress. Find any clues you can. Who's abducting the colonies? Do they have any connection to the Reapers?"

The Illusive Man took another drag from his cigarette, more smoke cascading over his visage.

"I brought you back. It's up to you to do the rest."

Allowing Shepard no time to protest, the Illusive Man disconnected, and the orange grid display enveloping Shepard fell around him, and back into its threshold.

* * *

Taking a short peek outside the shuttle window, Tali's eyes met the human colony, bereft of any activity whatsoever. Even from her safe position a distance above, the eerie vacancy breathing a frozen breath onto the nape of her neck.

Something wasn't right here. That much was for sure. Why would Veetor run for his life when a quarian shuttle signaled its landing? What happened here?

Prazza, the marine the Admiralty Board had assigned her, nudged her in her elbow.

"Any orders, Miss Zorah?"

"Well... Veetor ran when he saw our shuttle. Obviously, something has him spooked. And the colony looks deserted. I think something bad happened here. Keep your guard up, and your weapons drawn."

"Yes, ma'am."

After a brief period, the shuttle finally touched down in a small clearing, away from any of the larger buildings, and close enough to where they'd spotted Veetor.

Tali and the marines exited the shuttle, the same chill she'd felt before returning with a sharper intensity. Flood lights here and there illuminated varied sections of the colony. Anything beyond was veiled in a curtain of darkness, a perfect place for a vicious predator to watch with hungry eyes.

Tali shivered at the thought of whatever happened here still watching from the sidelines, waiting for Tali to give it a reason.

Stealing a glance at Prazza, she made a notion with her head to advance forward. The sooner they got Veetor out of here, the better.

* * *

Boots on the ground, observing purposefully, Shepard slanted his eyes in disbelief. A ghost town. No activity whatsoever. No signs of struggle or battle. No items of interest. Almost like the colony was built to just sit here, no one living in it.

Jacob summoned his shotgun, Miranda following suit with her machine pistol, watching him for his order. He summoned his own assault rifle from the back of his Cerberus armor, which Jacob and Miranda had identified as 'Ajax' armor. Shepard had reluctantly agreed to allow the set of armor be the substitute for his familiar N7 armor on this mission while it was being repaired. It had been moderately damaged during his escape from the Cerberus facility with Jacob and Wilson. It didn't bother Shepard much, but he did see the merit in having a repaired set of armor instead of one that exposed any part of his body.

The Ajax armor also came with its own helmet. Shepard usually wouldn't wear a breather helmet like this unless it was completely necessary, but he was feeling self-conscious of the glowing scars on his face. The scars would only burn in scathing pain if exposed to open air.

Shepard flashed a quick hand signal to follow him as he advanced. They'd have to cut through one of the buildings to get to the lower section, where a large door concealed the route that led further into the colony.

The door hissed as it opened, triggering the lights to flicker on. Shepard immediately found assorted metal trays on the tables on the right side of the room, half-eaten food swarmed by flies.

"Looks like everyone got up and left right in the middle of dinner."

Shepard sighed heavily. "Well, whatever happened, it obviously didn't leave them much time to eat."

Miranda nodded affirmation while Shepard continued to advance.

* * *

The section below the landing pad didn't hold much evidence as to what occurred, either. Just stone and empty buildings. And ten security mechs that shot to kill. Definitely nothing out of the ordinary.

Shepard, Miranda, and Jacob decided that they could cover more ground if they split up. He'd managed to convince them to let him go alone. After all, he couldn't run away. Where would he go?

Unfortunately, Shepard still couldn't find anything solid. If the colony was attacked, they were damn thorough with covering their tracks. No bodies, no blood, no sign of disarray or discord.

Even searching every nook and cranny, there was absolutely nothing. Completely barren. Maddeningly empty. He half-expected a ghost to tap him on the shoulder as he continued on.

Shepard was in the process of scouring a datapad left behind by one of the colonists for any clues when he heard a voice. It didn't seem to be directed at him, or even at anyone in particular. It was soft-spoken, and light. Female. But Shepard was too far away to make out what she was saying. With his M-8 Avenger gripped tightly in his hands, he followed the voice, careful to be light on his feet.

The woman's voice grew louder and clearer as he drew close. Just around the corner. She was arguing with herself. Something about a mech's security protocol having suffered an override from an unknown source.

Shepard stole a daring glance past the corner. It didn't take him long to identify the woman as a quarian before he retreated back to his initial position.

_What the hell is a quarian doing here?_

Shepard's train of thought screeched to a halt as his foot slipped slightly, his foot scratching across the stone. The boisterous commotion silenced the quarian past the corner...

She heard that.

Shepard was unsure whether the quarian was friendly or hostile. He may have a firefight on his hands. Fumbling to ensure that there was a thermal clip inside the Avenger, the clip somehow unwedged itself from the chamber, and fell to the ground with an audible clink.

"Shit.", Shepard hissed.

She _definitely _heard that.

Barely managing to snatch the thermal clip from the ground, the air beside him ignited in a field of electricity. A loud shriek exploded inside his helmet, signaling that his shields had taken massive damage, and needed a chance to recharge.

In a desperate attempt to alleviate the pressure, a fired a burst from his rifle blindly with one hand. Usually, the kick would dislocate his shoulder, but in a situation like this, taking risks could be the difference between life and death. But the barrage of bullets he'd unleashed was nothing more than a violent vibration in his hand. Hopefully, that earned him leeway to assume a more equal position.

He spotted a wall of barriers he could take cover behind. He wasn't sure where the quarian had ensconced herself, but the barriers would provide him a better field of vision.

Pivoting himself into a running motion, Shepard dashed forward, diving behind the barriers, and pushing himself into cover with a thud. A shotgun blast impacted with the barriers, a draft of blazing heat gliding over him.

Whoever this was, she was good. If she'd fired a fraction of a second earlier, his shields would have been flayed apart on the spot. And judging by the force of the impact of the slug, she was close. Closer than Shepard felt comfortable with. He placed the Avenger on the ground beside him, slinging his shotgun from his back and into his hands.

Shepard shifted his position. The last thing he wants is to repeat his movements and allow his opponent to guess his strategies.

He forced himself up to stand, watching for the quarian's next move. But she was one step ahead of him. Before he could realize what had happened, the same clamorous alarm screamed in his ear. He perfunctorily and intentionally fell to the ground, in an attempt to dodge the aim of his assailant. Another barrage roared past, almost butchering him alive.

It was obvious he was facing an engineer; and she had him completely outmatched... It wasn't looking good.

* * *

Nearly twenty minutes passed, and he was still at an impasse with his opponent. He couldn't hold on much longer playing whack-a-Shepard with the engineer. He couldn't even steal a glance without his shields being overloaded.

Soon, the two soldiers abandoned their efforts at getting the leg up over their opponent. Neither could find openings in their defenses. It was a tug-of-war with equal strength on both sides. All they've managed to do was waste ammo.

The battlefield was quiet, neither of them daring to make a move.

Shepard furrowed his brow as he barely made out the sound of mechanical clicking from his right. A combat drone. Near the odd-colored drone was an explosive canister, dangerously close to Shepard. His stomach dropped like a rock. He'd noticed it a moment too late. Attempting to dive away from the canister, a hot gust of wind slammed him into a wall beside him, and his vision went black.

* * *

Tali vaulted over the barrier as she found that the Cerberus agent had been stunned, if not killed by the explosion. As she drew near, she summoned her shotgun, preparing to finish him off when an odd sight caught her attention. A distance away from the Cerberus soldier, a miniature twinkle flashed past her mask and into her eyes. As she inspected the source, she found that it was a small stone, its blueish color contrasting intensely with the black stone it lay on. Almost instantly, she recognized the size, shape, and smooth pattern that she'd willed to leave behind for the past two years.

It was the stone Shepard had given to her on Virmire, the one she'd left on his coffin during his funeral. What the hell was a Cerberus operative doing with her personal keepsake? Who _was _this man?

Tali took a knee next to the groaning, disoriented agent, undoing the helmet clasps connecting to his armor. Carefully removing the helmet, and gazing upon the features of her attacker, her face contorted into a combination of horror, disbelief, and disgust.

...It was Shepard. In the flesh. Not dead, but laying there, right in front of her. She stood on her own two feet, nearly falling to her knees in abhorrence. As she backed away, blinking her eyes rapidly to ensure she wasn't going insane, her breath came in shallow, shaky bursts.

"Keelah... se'lai."

The doppelganger moaned as his senses returned. Squinting his eyes at her, a familiar voice slipped from his mouth. "Ugh...Who-... Tali?"

Gasping at air like a dose of sanity, Tali again reached for her shotgun. "No... no...no, no, no..."

She shoved the shotgun barrel in his face, screaming at the top of her lungs. "Who are you! Why do you... look like that! Tell me, now, before I...k-kill you!"

The man looked shaken as he blinked at her. "Tali? Is that you?"

She was beyond the point of saying anything at this point, only sobbing grunts and groans escaped her.

"Tali, i-it's me. Damon. Remember?

Tali shook her head. No. No way. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be. She was dreaming. She was having a dream; she was going to wake up soon.

The man pushed himself to his feet, still pleading his identity to her. "Come on, Tali. You know me. It's me, Shepard. You have to remember."

"N-no...no. No. No, you're dead!"

The clone found the stone on the ground before him, taking it carefully between his fingers. "Remember this, Tali? Remember when I gave this to you on Virmire? What about what I said to you on Noveria? Do you remember what I said to you?"

Hot tears streamed down her face, stinging her eyes and hindering her vision. "I..."

"I broke my promise to you, Tali. I told you that I'd be fine. I was going to save Joker and meet you later, but... I failed. I failed you... I sacrificed myself to save Joker. I'm sorry, Tali. I'm so sorry."

Her hand trembled violently, unable to hold her weapon any longer. It fell with a clunk onto the ground as she began to weep uncontrollably.

"I told you I loved you. I'm alive, Tali... I'm here."

Her knees collapsed under her weight, but two strong arms caught her before she fell.

She couldn't believe it. It felt so real, but wasn't she dreaming? Is this even real?

His arms felt so real to her. His touch, his embrace. His comforting voice. It was all real. She was really here, in this moment. It was really happening. And Shepard was back. He was gone for two years, but he's back.

She squeezed him with every last ounce of her strength, her face soaked with tears.

She got Shepard back. After all this pain, misery, and all her tears, Shepard came back.

Nuzzling her head under his chin, she allowed him to rock her back and forth, the way he would always do...

She had missed him so much.

So much.

* * *

Shepard raised his head slightly as he caught the sound of the door to his cabin sliding open.

His slumped-over position must have concerned the Cerberus officer, her Australian accent rolling off her tongue as she muttered to him.

"Commander?"

Shepard debated his next action in his head, wondering if she should just dismiss her immediately, or hear what she has to say. Pushing up to a position where he could turn himself around, he answered.

"At least knock before you invade my privacy...", Shepard turned to face the woman. "..._Lawson."_, He added with an ornery hiss. He crossed his arms as he leaned back on his desk overlooking the other half of the cabin.

Miranda Lawson stood just before the bulkhead leading into his cabin, standing placidly with four datapads in her right hand.

Her expression was void of any severe emotion. She stared him down with a blank, cold look. It made Shepard feel somewhat uneasy.

Inhaling a short portion of breath, Lawson responded. "Understood.", she consented rigidly, her lips closing to resume her impervious appearance.

"May I come in?"

She delineated Shepard's silence as an indefinite invitation to enter and casually strolled inside, making a notion to the datapads in her hand.

He watched her conscientiously as she trod toward him, outstretching her hand to place the datapads on the desk beside him.

"These are some of the dossiers of the best candidates for our team.", Lawson clarified.

Shepard clutched the dossiers with a steely grip to halt her advancement. His sight was deadlocked on her every move.

He gently slid the dossiers out from Lawson's hands, curling his fingers around them.

"Thank you.", was what he spared her, using it in place of another, less-polite choice of words. "You can leave now." He placed the stack of dossiers on the desk beside him, deliberately attempting to irritate her with his candid exhibit of disinterest.

The Cerberus officer glared at him callously, his commission to vex her into blind anger digging into her skin. Sighing, she shook her head slightly.

"Cerberus isn't your enemy, Commander. It's advised that you put your petty grudges aside so that we may efficiently assist each other with mutual benefits."

An amused snort escaped him. "Petty grudges? The whole damn galaxy has a grudge on you. Let me ask you, Lawson: Have Cerberus saved as many lives as they've taken? What's Cerberus's moral standing in the galactic community?"

Miranda's shoulders waned to a rigid uneasiness. However, her tone of voice betrayed her provoked body language. "The possible number of lives we will save under your supervision should overshadow your doubts. This is no time to dig up graves."

"It's gonna take more than dubious possibilities to change my mind. My time in the Alliance has taught me that your organization can't be trusted. Hell, you were even part of the Alliance until you screwed the pooch. Care to explain that? What about what Tali told me? You attacked the Flotilla. For what? Information? I've a mind to snatch up my Avenger, kill you all, and take the ship for myself. You more than deserve it."

"Please, Commander. If you allow us a chance at redemption, I promise you, you will come to trust Cerberus in the end. Our motives are born of honest philanthropy."

Shepard furrowed his brow, twisting his lips in an acidic snarl. "So that's what all this is about? You brought me back from the dead for the sole purpose of having some pitiful grasp at atonement?"

Before he could further elaborate, Lawson interrupted him, the fuse of her temper prominently running short.

"No!", Lawson hollered, denying his accusations fervently. "This about saving lives, Commander! Lengthening the short life of the galactic community. Working toward what you aspired to do until your death two years ago: Stopping the Reapers!"

Shepard pushed away from his nonchalant position leaning against his desk to close in on the petite Cerberus officer.

"Or maybe you're just using that as an excuse to bloody my hands for you? And how far are you willing to go to push forward your own asinine agendas? Obviously to the point where you cross lines that ought not to be crossed. Because of you, the person I love the most doesn't even know if I'm a clone, or the real thing. She can't even trust me. Do you know how much it hurts? Do you understand what it feels like? Do you realize what you've done to me?"

Miranda stood speechless. She stuttered over herself as she scrounged for an appropriate answer.

"I don't need someone to tell me to know that you're all too shallow to realize the true nature of your organization.", Shepard growled fiercely, inches away from Lawson's face. He clenched his fists with a deadly threat of swinging as he continued to scold her.

"You might be able to fool others into joining Cerberus, but not me. Don't try to convince me you work for a saint, because you don't."

Lawson locked eyes with him, wearing the most vicious look of disgust she could manage. "And does the Alliance not have a bloody background as well? Are they not just as much at fault?"

"They do damn better work than you do.", Shepard rumbled malevolently. Shepard stifled an urge to spit in the bitch's face, and withdrew from the close proximity they had shared.

"Get out.", Shepard ordered. Lawson returned her gaze to Shepard, a shimmer of hopelessness twinkling in her eyes. She rushed out of the cabin, the door panels sliding shut gently behind her.

Sighing, Shepard turned to seize a datapad between his fingers, and skimmed over a detailed report of one Doctor Mordin Solus.

Some connotations about the Genophage and STG work; nothing that really interested him at the moment.

He forced a gruff sigh from his throat, staring at his terminal blankly.

He wanted to talk to her. He wanted to hear her voice again. Something. Anything.

His eyes fell to his feet.

Was it even possible to feel so alone?

* * *

**Sorry for the wait, guys. Had to have some help on how to approach the Tali/Shepard reunion. I hope I didn't do too bad! Props to SilentPony for all the awesome ideas! Thanks a lot! Please read/review!**

**On a side note, I need to explain something to everyone. In Come What May, I tried to include every part of the story, including the combat, character development, missions, and pretty much tried to make it into one big hands-on journey. Unfortunately, I don't think I'll be able to do the same thing here due to length reasons. Mass Effect 1 is not as long as Mass Effect 2, and if I tried to include everything in Mass Effect 2 in this one, it would take me an insane amount of time to finish it. But don't worry. I'll try not to skimp too much. I'll try to include some combat, and conversations that I believe are important to the story. I will still include conversations between crew members, as well as weave in some fleshed-out friendships that you didn't see in Mass Effect 2. And, of course, I will focus heavily on Tali/Shepard throughout this story. Hopefully you all understand, and thanks so much for everyone's patience. Till next chapter!**


	9. Truth And Lies

Even having the Normandy back with Joker at the helm did nothing to assuage Shepard's vapid outlook of the future. If what the Illusive Man said was true, and most of his former team had moved on, he failed to see how he would lead this ragtag team of mercenaries. Especially since he knew none of whom the dossiers depicted.

And that fight with Miranda...

So what if Cerberus is telling the truth? With their reputation, do they really believe he'd be stupid enough to place an ounce of his trust in them? He'd seen the Collectors, or, at least, what _seemed_ to be Collectors from the security footage Veetor showed them.

Shepard dug his nose into an open palm. Leaving now would be a grave mistake. He knew better than to leave possibilities to chance. It would either dissipate, or it would swell into a bigger situation than he can handle.

He'll have to stick Cerberus for now; it would be nonsensical to throw everything away now.

After all, if Cerberus really was trying to trick him, Freedom's Progress would have been one big, ingeniously crafted sham. But it wasn't possible. Especially since he'd ran into Tali.

Just as Shepard suspected, the quarian greeted him with such malevolent disbelief. Convincing the woman would be an uphill battle. Or a ninety degree angled-hill battle. Tali could be stubborn, yet that was a quality Shepard found emphatically attractive. She was clear on what she wanted; she just had a hard time expressing it.

Snorting at the fact that his train of thought had derailed completely off topic, Shepard took another look at the Freedom's Progress mission report.

Collectors.

From what the Illusive Man had told Shepard, they were an enigmatic race whose homeworld was supposedly located beyond the Omega 4 relay. They sometimes made trades with the local races inside the Terminus systems, trading their incredibly advanced technology for unusual items or even living beings.

The thought of being traded to one of those overgrown bugs in exchange for technology made his skin crawl. But then again, there are plenty of worse things happening in the galaxy right now. It made sense why it wouldn't attract much attention.

Shepard dispelled the thought and the datapad altogether. The Normandy would be arriving at a giant piece of rock so illustriously named "Omega", to find the first candidate for his team, Mordin Solus.

Another salarian. Shepard wondered if this was an improvement, or a step down from when he was with the Alliance...

* * *

Dragging her feet through the threshold into her home, Tali released another hefty sigh. Having finally delineated that the events that had transpired earlier today as lucid reality, and not a dream induced by the yearning of the past, she plopped down on her bed with a sullen demeanor. As she scanned the interior of her infinitesimal "house", her thoughts returned to the blue mirrors of the past that had stared her down on Freedom's Progress.

As if her life wasn't already twisted and warped enough. Now Shepard is back, with nothing to show for it besides a few scars on his face? The entire story barely holds any merit. How was she supposed to believe it was really Shepard, and not just a human-synthetic Cerberus had crafted? But how could a synthetic display such emotion? How could it hold memories only she and Shepard had shared?

Questions swarmed around in her mind like a raging hurricane. Did it _truly_ happen, and was it not an absurd psychosis of subconscious reality?

Tears blurred her vision. Her breath shallowed to labored sobs. She watched on as the last, tattered iota of emotional fortitude fall away in a burning mass of what used to be so invincible.

She sniffled and cleared her throat as she heard the door to her home slide open with a pneumatic hiss. A glance to the doorway showed the silhouette of Shala'Raan vas Tonbay, watching her intently as she entered. Tali hid the oscillations of her shoulders and silenced her crying, but it proved to be futile, as it always was with Auntie Raan.

Two tiny hands found her shoulders, squeezing mildly as Raan's familiar heavy accent and her soothing voice was caught in Tali's audio receivers. "Tali? What is wrong, child? Why are you weeping?"

Tali drew a shaky breath, careful not to burst wide open. "I-I can't tell you."

Raan, still holding onto Tali's shoulder with one hand, Raan twisted around so that she could sit next to Tali on her bunk. Wasting no time, she shifted herself so that she could face Tali.

"I read the mission reports. There was something in there about Cerberus being at Freedom's Progress. And, instead of neutralizing you instantly, one of the operatives claimed that they knew you. Please, Tali. Tell me what happened down there.

At this point, she didn't really know who to trust; herself or Raan, who had been more of a parent figure to Tali than her father since the time of her mother's death.

Tali confided in the latter, and blinked her tears away as she leaned next to Raan.

"Do you remember that man I told you about? The captain of the ship I stayed on during my pilgrimage?"

Raan nodded in a placating sincerity. "Yes. You told me so much about him. You told me he meant everything to you."

Steeling herself so that she wouldn't fall into another painful memory on the Normandy, Tali nodded slightly. Breathing in deeply through her nose, Tali continued.

"The Cerberus operative... it was him. He's still alive, somehow."

She could see Raan's glowing eyes grow larger with disbelief. "W-what? But how?"

"I don't know. That's the thing.", Tali confessed, sobbing. "I don't know if it was real, o-or... if I was dreaming or something... I... I'm losing my mind, Raan."

Now, Tali couldn't control her hysteria. Auntie Raan pulled her into a tight embrace, all the while speaking softly into Tali's ear.

"There, there, child. It's going to be okay. I promise. Now, tell me about what happened after you realized it was him. What did you do? Did you two talk?"

Tali let go of Raan as she regained her composure. Tali felt a compulsion to remove her visor so she could wipe the tears from her face, but due to the Flotilla's strict set of rules, no quarian was allowed to do that in a room that wasn't adequately sealed off from the rest of the ship.

Feeling marginally relieved, Tali sat up straight again, finally well enough to continue.

"Well... he told me about Cerberus supposedly rebuilding him. He told me how much he'd missed me. We both missed each other so much..."

* * *

_"There they are."_

_The digital map of Freedom's Progress retreated back into Shepard's omnitool as he typed in numerous commands. Beeping as it dissipated out of sight, Shepard turned to back to her, a small grin on his face._

_"The other Cerberus officers I came here with are on the other side of the colony. If we cut through the residential district, we can meet them near the control center._

_Tali nervously fidgeted with her fingers, unsure if this surreal moment was really happening._

_Shepard's rumbling voice cut into her thoughts. "Something wrong, Tali?"_

_She sighed heavily, half-annoyed, half blindly angry._

_"What isn't? Even if you really are alive and not a clone, how could you be working for Cerberus? They've been the Alliance's enemies for years. How can you trust them?"_

_Shepard closed the distance between them with blistering punctuality. "First of all, I'm not working for them. I'm working **with** them. Their little ringleader, the Illusive Man, said that if I don't find what the evidence I need, we can go our separate ways. Believe me, I'd love nothing more than to leave Cerberus empty-handed, with none of them the wiser. But I can't leave. Not yet. Also, I **don't** trust them. Not at all. That's why I'm here."_

_Tali shook her head with irritated nihilism. "And what exactly are you looking for, anyway?"_

_Shepard's steely glare locked her in an icy prison. "I've already found her."_

_The pair stood motionless, neither betraying their veracity as they watched each other intensely._

_The tension becoming too much to bear, Tali broke eye contact. She trusted him, so far as his opinion on Cerberus went. But trust was a hard thing to come by these days. Perhaps if he could convince her..._

_She summoned her omnitool from her left arm, typing in commands quickly and expertly. Pushing one last button, a few moments passed before Shepard's omnitool glowed with a notification that he had a new message. A friend request from one Tali'Zorah._

_Accepting reflexively, Shepard's face split in a grin. "I'll write every day."_

_Tali confessed a tiny smile at Shepard's intact sense of humor. Yet another thing she'd missed dearly for the past two years._

* * *

**I apologize for the really long wait for this very short chapter. I know the previous chapter was left at kind of a blank. It would have been sooner, but I had to deal with some good, old-fashioned drama, coupled with a snake bite and a particularly nasty flu that I don't believe has completely run its course just yet. Anyway, do me a favor and leave a review if you liked/disliked this chapter. I accept all kinds of feedback! Thanks!**

**Also, I'll TRY to update with some form of regularity. I can be lazy sometimes, but creating a schedule for myself would probably help out a lot.**


	10. Talk To Me

Omega.

The dark underbelly of the galaxy looked a lot less dingy and unkempt in the vids, and the local street trash they illustrated was less than exaggerated.

Speaking of street trash, an eager-looking salarian was ambling over in Shepard's direction, an ardent, overly-enthusiastic grin on his face. Locking his feet in place just before he plowed into him, the salarian split his lips, revealing rows of neglected, brown teeth.

"Ah! Welcome to Omega! You're new here, aren't you? I can always tell! Allow me to..."

The salarian's effervescent ardor evaporated as a bitter-faced batarian approached from his left. Shepard almost didn't notice him.

"Oh...", the salarian mumbled after identifying the batarian. "Hello, Moklan! I was just-"

Moklan had no intention of entertaining the salarian's ploy. He gestured firmly behind him, sternly shooing the salarian off.

"Leave, Fargut. Now."

Fargut nodded his head in terror, reluctant to challenge Moklan's order. "O-of course, Moklan! W-whatever she wants!"

Moklan swatted his hand in the other direction, Fargut shrinking away from the gesture to scamper away.

Moklan shook his head in mild indignation. "Blasted scavengers."

The batarian eyed Shepard intently. A small, twisted grin contorting his features, he bowed his head. "Welcome to Omega, _Shepard_."

Slanting his gaze at the pompous being, Shepard locked his fingers together behind his back. "So, you know who I am?"

"Of course.", gloated the smug batarian. "We had you tagged the moment you entered the Terminus Systems. You're not as subtle as you think."

Shepard was never a big fan of being the subject of such deprecating mockery. But he held his tongue, regardless. He'd learned that some people just aren't worth getting frustrated at.

Moklan's despotic temperament continued to push Shepard's ire.

"Aria wants to know what brings a dead Spectre to Omega. I suggest you go to Afterlife, _now_, and present yourself."

"Cut the crap.", Shepard challenged him. "I'm not here to cause problems."

Unimpressed by his exhibition, Moklan continued undeterred. "Things explode around you, Shepard. You can't blame Aria for keeping an eye on you. Afterlife. Now."

Gritting his teeth, Shepard mused the thought of throwing a fist right in the center of Moklan's ugly face, but before he could act on the impulsion, the batarian turned to go off on his own way. Turning behind him to face Miranda and Jacob, Shepard released his oral tension.

"I _really_ don't like batarians."

Miranda acted as if she didn't hear what he said, understandably. Jacob returned Shepard's remark with humor. Admitting a short chuckle, Jacob nodded his head in agreement. "They have that reputation."

Shepard's earpiece beeped with an incoming transmission. "I'm receiving quarantine warnings about the slums where Dr. Mordin Solus runs the clinic.", EDI's synthetically augmented voice resounded. "Anticipate resistance at the transport station. I have also accessed messages between mercenary groups regarding plans to deal with Archangel. There's a recruiting station at Afterlife that may have information on him."

"Copy that.", Shepard replied promptly. "Sounds like we've got no choice but to go visit this 'Aria'.", he relayed to his squad.

"Right behind you.", Jacob stated, speaking for both Miranda and himself. Normally, Shepard would have confronted Miranda, but he was in no mood to fight with her again, or to argue with a Cerberus operative.

Shrugging off the idea, he led his team around a corner, and through a door that revealed the entrance to his destination, the word 'Afterlife' glowing above the doorway. Above that was a holographic display of two asari in skimpy, shameless clothing, dancing in the same sequence over and over again.

Even from outside, a good distance away from the building, the music from inside rang out nearly clear as a bell. A line had condensed in the front of the building, an annoyed human arguing violently with a hulking elcor. It was a wonder how the elcor hadn't lost its patience and swatted the human ten feet in the other direction.

As Shepard drew near, he caught part of the heated argument between them, but his attention was diverted to another batarian standing in front of the Afterlife entrance when he heard a sharp whistle in that direction.

Locked in the batarian's four-eyed glare, he made a come-hither notion to Shepard with his hand. Ignoring the ornery stares from the varied species waiting in line behind the angry human, Shepard approached and ascended the stairs to the door of the club. As it hissed open, the batarian muttered in a dark tone.

"Go on in. Aria's expecting you."

Purposefully sifting through the hallway and through the actual entrance, the sight that met Shepard put Flux, Chora's Den, and any other high-end club on the Citadel to shame. The music was a tumultuous, punishing amalgamation of different beats, instruments, and time signatures. The scale of the building housed various floors, each with its own reputation and assorted ethnic backgrounds. The massive room he saw now was just a sample of what this castle was about.

Peering past the 'dancer' platform in the center of the room, Shepard identified a platform that overlooked the main room. Whoever was the head honcho of this place was sure to be someplace high. Elevated above the clubgoers like she was in a league all her own, a queen atop her perch.

After managing to slip past the dancing figures of various species, sizes, and shapes, Shepard had reached the staircase leading up to the platform. Standing in the center with her back turned to him was a violet-skinned asari, presumably Aria, guarded by batarians, humans, and turians alike.

The mental image he had of Aria contrasted substantially with reality. He expected a raggedy drug addict with bloodshot eyes and a

Coming an arm's reach distance away from her, without turning to look or to even acknowledge Shepard's presence, she mumbled just loud enough to be heard over the music.

"That's close enough."

On cue, weapons of unknown model and caliber clicked and droned as they were trained directly on Shepard's head. Twisting around to gauge his competition, he found a turian with a large hand cannon trained on him, the barrel centimeters away from Shepard's temple, ready to pull the trigger at the snap of a finger. He shook his head, giving him a look that said 'You really don't want to try anything.'

A batarian to his left mimicked the turian's threatening position, focusing his machine pistol on Shepard's forehead.

As soon as Aria surmised that Shepard wasn't a threat, she made a notion with her head, ordering her lackeys to lower their weapons. The batarian to Shepard's left placed his pistol on his hip, and activated his omnitool. Waving his arm around Shepard's physique, he revealed a set of sharp teeth as he opened his mouth.

"Stand still."

Having taken one too many verbal challenges from batarians, Shepard furrowed his brow as he wrapped his fingers around the batarian's neck, and pulled him closer toward him.

"If I have to take _one more order_ from one of you ugly asses, I might have to do something drastic..."

The batarian looked mildly disturbed at Shepard's threat, but it was Aria who replied to it, not even bothering to turn to face him.

"Hey, tough guy. You wanna talk?"

She left a void of silence between her next sentence. "Cut the hardass bullshit, and _stand_... _the fuck_... _still_, before _I _do something drastic. How does that sound?"

Without giving him the opportunity to respond, the batarian shoved Shepard's hand off his neck, and resumed his scanning.

Seeing no merit in challenging Aria, Shepard shook his head. "Make it quick."

"What's the rush?", Aria questioned airily.

"I was told you're the person to talk to if I have questions.", Shepard revealed, crossing his arms. "And I need some answers."

The batarian scanning Shepard deactivated his scanner, the corporeal display vanishing along with the omnitool itself. "They're clean."

The batarian promptly stepped out of the way, allowing Aria a space to swing herself around, and for Shepard to approach her.

Finally, she spun around, revealing a relatively young-looking asari, with unique, and interesting markings adorning her features.

"Depends on the questions.", Aria answered defensively.

Making a notion around him, Shepard wasted no time to get down to business. "I'm guessing you run Omega?"

Aria's lips curved into a sneering laugh, as if the question asked was too absurd to be taken seriously.

Walking to the edge of the platform, her dark silhouette contrasting with the bright pink light of the holographic display in the center of the room. Stretching her arms out like a great bird displaying its massive wingspan, like a queen exerting her rule over her proud kingdom, Aria replied with a vigorous, dignified fervor.

"I _am_ Omega."

Facing him again, she searched his face for a reaction. Or something. Shepard couldn't tell with this one.

She returned to her position just before Shepard. "But you need more. Everyone needs more something, and they all come to me."

"I'm the boss, CEO, queen, if you're... feeling dramatic. It doesn't matter. Omega has no titled ruler and _only_... one rule."

Bending her knees to sit herself down on the couch before her, Aria wriggled to and fro to find a comfortable position. Finding a place to rest herself, she returned her steely glare to Shepard's eyes.

"Don't fuck with Aria."

An intrepid grin spread across the asari's face. She was confident that we was so relied on, and so important, she believed she was untouchable. And being the unofficial ruler of a madhouse like Omega, Shepard was more than inclined to believe it.

"Sounds like neither of us likes being jerked around.", Shepard observed.

"And on your ship, that would matter.", Aria replied sarcastically. "Here, we entertain _my _preferences."

Slanting his eyes at her, Shepard believed what she was trying to say was 'My house, my rules. Behave yourself'. Only, she wanted to put as much intimidating emphasis on it as she could.

Aggression.

Smiling marginally, Shepard was already able to see what Aria was about. Her tactics, her attitude, what kind of ballgame she played.

But a simple, uttered 'Understood' was all Aria needed to allow him to take a seat on the couch to her right.

As Shepard found a comfortable position, Aria turned her head to him, and locked her fingers together inquisitively.

"So, what can I do for you?"

"I'm looking for Mordin Solus. Do you know where I can find him?"

"The salarian doctor?", Aria identified, seemingly surprised at the mention of his name. "Last I heard, he was trying to help plague victims in the quarantine zone."

Aria stared ahead, a small grin creasing her face, and a hint of admiration in her voice. "I always liked Mordin. He's as likely to heal you as he is to shoot you."

At least she knew him. Hopefully, Aria could point Shepard in the right direction. "What can you tell me about him?"

"Used to be part of the Special Tasks Group.", Aria explained, facing Shepard. "He's brilliant... and dangerous. Just don't get him talking."

Aria rolled her eyes sarcastically before she continued. "He never shuts up. And, if you _really_ need to find him, take a shuttle to the quarantine zone. No guarantee they'll let you in, of course."

"Then I'll take a shuttle as soon as possible.", Shepard declared. "Now, what about Archangel? I need to track him down."

Aria scoffed "You and half of Omega. You want him dead, too?"

"...No, I'm putting together a team, and he's on my list. Why's everyone after him?"

Aria's notorious sarcasm drenched her every word. "He thinks he's fighting on the side of good." Aria shook her head, condemning Archangel's noble actions. "There is no good side to Omega. Everything he does pisses someone off. It's catching up to him."

One side of Shepard's lips curved into a grin. "Just the kind of guy I'm looking for."

"Really?", Aria questioned, eyeing him with a certain curiosity. "Well, aren't you interesting?"

"You're gonna make some enemies teaming up with Archangel.", Aria advised. "That's assuming you can get to him. He's in a bit of ...trouble... right now."

"Really? What kind of trouble?"

"The local merc groups have joined forces to take him down."

Making subtle notions with her hands, Aria explained his situation. "They've got him cornered, but it sounds like they're having trouble finishing him off. They've started hiring _anybody_ with a gun to help them."

Lifting a hand in the general direction of her southwest, she continued. "They're using a private room for recruiting... just over there. I'm sure they'll sign you up."

Nodding his understanding, Shepard rose to his feet. "Thanks for the help."

Again, an amused smirk pushed against her cheeks. "See if you still feel that way when the mercs realize you're here to help him."

Shepard turned to descend the staircase, but Aria's voiced halted his advancement for a split second.

"Come visit me again some time... Shepard."

* * *

"But what about shields? You know that most geth are equipped with a kinetic shield to protect from this exact type of firepower!", Admiral Han'Gerrel argued.

"That's why you can charge the shots.", Daro'Xen defended. "Did you forget that the ionization process that the pistol uses would punch a hole in the shield, just large enough for the shot to pass trough? The marines we can equip this pistol with needn't worry about kinetic barriers any more. And even if the ionization _did_ malfunction, the charged high-ampere electric shock would be more than enough to destroy a kinetic barrier, as well as deal damage to the geth unit, albeit reduced due to its shield sustaining most of the electric shock. Then, the platform would be an exposed, easy target."

"What about in areas with no air to be ionized? The pistol would be useless.", Zaal'Koris chided.

Xen shook her head. "Not true, Admiral Koris. There is always air to be ionized, always malleable, and adjustable. Even in the far reaches of space, gases of all kinds are present. Maybe not enough to breathe, but definitely enough to be ionized in a straight line, and punch a tiny hole in a geth's kinetic shield. And even if, in such a situation, the ionization malfunctioned, an electric shock can still travel through space. The source of the electricity is local, after all. Inside the pistol. I thought of everything, admirals. This firearm truly is a masterly crafted weapon."

Admiral Koris sighed ruggedly. "Even if it was, Xen, you know we do not possess the resources to mass produce this kind of firepower to be standard equipment for our marines."

"It doesn't have to be mass produced.", Xen prodded further. "Not very much. It can be distributed to squad leaders as standard sidearms. That way, if the team is compromised, the weapon would be in the most capable hands available at the time. And, if needed, the weapon can be passed down the chain of command."

Han'Gerrel buried his visor in his hand and Xen and Koris went back and forth, arguing over the small firearm placed on the stand in the center of the chamber.

Tali couldn't shake the feeling of tension in her chest and shoulders. She barely knew anything about weapon mechanics, how was she supposed to give her opinion, let alone offer suggestions? Even as an admiral's daughter, how could she help with anything? The amount of experience and skills she has is nothing in comparison to these seasoned admirals.

How was this 'Admiral training' if she had really no idea what any of them were talking about?

A thick, robust finger tapped Tali on the shoulder. "Tali? Do you have any input?"

Her father.

Tali diverted her attention to the center of the room, where Admirals Han'Gerrel, Zaal'Koris, Shala'Raan, and Daro'Xen had fixed their glowing, castigating gazes on her. Her face turned hot as she avoided their stares.

"N-No. I don't."

Almost immediately, Zaal'Koris, Han'Gerrel, and Daro'Xen resumed their clash of logic and competence, nothing of which Tali could contest.

A voice behind Tali scolded her timidity. "Tali, from shrinking away at opportunities for improvement, you are reducing our people's chance at survival and prosperity. Do you not want that? Do you want to doom us to the mercy of harsh fate? Have you learned nothing from the schools I put you in? The training you underwent?"

Tali could do nothing. Say nothing. Her shame weighed down on her shoulders, her head dipped in defeat.

"I expect better from you, Tali. You should, too."

Once the bicker session with the Admirals had finally come to a close, she sighed as she realized she had the rest of the day to herself. She'd decided that all she really wanted to do was go home, and crawl into bed.

Dragging her feet through the bulkhead, she plopped down on her 'bed', and activated her omnitool.

Deciding to surf through the extranet, and see what was happening on the galactic scene, nothing could have ruined her mood more than what met her eyes.

_'Commander Shepard- Alive?_

_Is it a hoax? A trick? An expertly crafted fabrication? You be the judge! Below is an unedited photograph of Commander Shepard, in the flesh, roaming the notorious local Omega club, Afterlife. Several pictures were taken inside and outside of the Afterlife nightclub, showing Commander Shepard casually making his way inside the club, trailed behind by two unknown individuals, whom some claim are Cerberus operatives! Another picture shows Omega's 'Pirate Queen' Aria T'Loak having a casual conversation with Commander Shepard! Was Commander Shepard's death staged as an excuse for him to leave the Alliance and join Cerberus? Was it even really him, and not a synthetic, or a flawless plastic surgery job? If so, where has this Alliance hero been all these years? Why has he shown up now, after being written down in the books as one of the greatest galactic legends to ever live- and die?'  
[Read more!]_

_[More photographs]_

Tali deactivated her omnitool almost instantly. Like she really needed that.

She didn't understand what she was feeling. Or maybe this was what being completely numb felt like. She still had a hard time believing it herself. He really was alive. Rebuilt by Cerberus, but not under their control. There was no right or wrong, nothing to be faithful in. All she could do was drag herself out of bed every day, hoping for things to suddenly make sense. Feeling helpless at her situation, she reactivated her omnitool.

Finding 'Damon Shepard' among her list of friends, she opened a small box that she could use to type a message to send to him. She knew that it was the one person she trusted most, but she didn't know what to say. It was like talking to a complete stranger. Someone she didn't know.

Nevertheless, she mustered all the audacity she could. Typing her message and hitting 'send' without any second guesses, she awaited a reply to her message:

_You: Two years, and you're finally on the front page of Galactic News again. How have you been?_

...Nothing. For five minutes, nothing.

Ten minutes later, no reply.

Thirty minutes, still nothing.

After an hour of no response, Tali was ready to give it up and close her eyes, but as she prepared to deactivate her omnitool, it beeped softly, a new message in her inbox.

_Damon: Not any better than you, I'd wager. I have a couple hours free. Talk to me._

An involuntary grin split her face. The biggest grin she'd had in a while. The only real smile she had in two years. She crossed her legs as she wrote a reply.

* * *

**Hello again! Hope you liked this one! It was short, yeah, but hopefully an improvement on my earlier chapters. I would have uploaded this Sunday, but I could never get around to finishing it, so here it is, finally. Please review, and thanks a lot!**


	11. Just Like Old Times

**Let me just start by saying how sorry I am for not updating in years. The month of September was so shitty, I either didn't have time, or wasn't feeling up to writing. I hope you understand, and thanks for your patience. We'll just say it was an unofficial break. But now I'm back, and ready to get started. Hope you enjoy this one! Thanks!  
**

* * *

Shepard paced inside the clinic where Mordin's eyes were glued to a medical display.

"Environmental systems engaged. Airborne viral levels dropping. Patients improving. Vorcha retreating..."

The salarian turned away from the console to approach the center of the room, and steal a glance at Shepard.

"Well done, Shepard. Thank you.", he added gratefully.

From behind Mordin, his pensive assistant, Daniel, quietly expressed his appreciation. "A-and... thank you from me, as well. Those batarians would have killed me. For a second there, I thought you were going to shoot them even after they let me go."

Shepard couldn't help but grin at Daniel. "I'm a man of my word. I promised to let them go."

Mordin's cold interjection earned him a surprised look from Daniel.

"Merciful of you. Risky. Would have killed them myself."

Daniel approached Mordin from behind, his brow furrowed in consternation. "Professor, how can you say that? You're a doctor. You believe in helping people!"

The salarian scientist shrugged his shoulders. "Lots of ways to help people. Sometimes heal patients. Sometimes execute dangerous people. Either way helps. Go check on the patients. Lots of work to do. Think about what I said."

Daniel shook his head crossly, and stormed off in the other direction.

Mordin smiled, despite his and his assistant's sour disagreement. "Good kid. Bit naive. He'll learn. Letting him take over the clinic. Should be able to handle it now that vorcha are gone."

"Speaking of which, now that the plague is cured, are you ready to help stop the Collectors?"Shepard questioned him."The tech lab on the Normandy is being prepared for your occupation."

"Yes.", Mordin chirped, raising a brow. "Unexpected to be working with Cerberus. Many surprises. Just need to finish up here at the clinic. Won't take long. Meet you at your ship." The mile-a-minute speaking salarian paused for a moment, breathing in deeply through his nose.

"Looking forward to it."

Shepard nodded slightly, feeling that he may grow to like the hyperactive scientist. "I'll meet you aboard the ship."

As Mordin nodded his assent, Shepard turned on his heel to exit the clinic, but caught a tiny green blinking light emanating from his wrist.

He had a message. He must have received it during combat, since there was no such signal or tune that played to signify the arrival of the message.

Opening his omnitool to discover who the message was from, his face lit up in recognition.

Scrolling through the contents of his inbox, he found the new message and opened it.

_Tali:__ Two years, and you're finally on the front page of Galactic News again. How have you_ _been?_

Shepard could only imagine what kind of exaggerated reports littered every front page of Galactic News. Everyone and their mothers must have heard the announcement of his reappearance by now.

Ignoring his chance to witness his widespread fame, Shepard immediately typed a message back.

_You: Not any better than you, I'd wager. I have a couple hours free. Talk to me._

Shepard disengaged his omnitool, unsure of whether Tali would message him back or not. He was unsure if she were still angry or upset.

He hoped for the best as he led Miranda and Jacob out of the clinic, and to their next objective, the elusive Archangel.

* * *

He shifted uneasily in his seat, twitching his fingers together, back and forth, making constant glances at the datapad he'd laid on the bench next to him.

His breath shuddered at the thought of his head in someone's crosshair. Being the designated informant of an assassin was risky business. Especially on Kar'Shan.

Countless sets of four, beady eyes would cast their menacing gazes on Jerrith, who would break eye contact immediately. All he could do was sit still, stare at his feet and wait. It was such an agonizing thing for a salarian to pass the time sitting down, doing nothing. He wasn't even in his olden years yet.

Some would say he was close, but he believed he had time, but not much.

To his relief, he caught sight of something out of place. A shadow of a hand beckoned to him from a dark corner inside the building. Grappling the data pad in a tight grip within his fingers, he hobbled over to where the assassin had waved to him.

"You've gotta stop picking these populated places for sensitive stuff like this.", Jerrith chastised. "I'm not into this 'hiding-in-plain-sight' persona you've adopted recently."

A gruff, granular voice answered from the shadows. "An exchange of information in an inconspicuous area would be too predictable. There is always someone listening, watching."

Jerrith rolled his eyes at the response he nearly always received. "Yeah, yeah, employer confidentiality. I get it."

He handed the assassin the datapad, Nassanna Dantius' dossier slightly illuminating his face.

"Nassanna Dantius. Undesirable business habits, mistreatment of workers, malcontent employees, you name it, she's done it. She pisses a lot of people off, and anyone who blabs about it ends up with a bullet in the head. Thousands of people want her dead, and they all settled on you."

The assassin remained silent, continuing to review his mission parameters.

Jerrith leaned in, trying to catch the slightest hint of emotion from the assassin.

"Can you do it?"

A few seconds passed in silence before the assassin deactivated the datapad and dropped his hand to his side.

"Yes.", he finally answered. "I will return to Illium when my business on Kar'Shan has been concluded. Thank you for relaying this information."

The salarian blinked at him, surprised at his explanation. Usually, he was so cryptic in his conversations, usually saying 'yes', or 'no'. Never a full, detailed answer.

"This will be my last job.", the assassin confided. "You will not see me anymore after this."

Again, Jerrith couldn't help but blink at him. "W-what? Why? Are you retiring?"

From where he stood, Jerrith could see him hesitate before nodding his head. "Yes."

"I will expect you to relay this to my employers, as well. I must leave soon."

Jerrith nodded his head emphatically. "Y-yes, of course."

A webbed hand found the salarian's shoulder, clenching it firmly. "Thank you for your assistance, Jerrith. I shall hope that Kalihira will guide you home when your time has come."

Jerrith didn't know what to say. To him, this assassin was just another mercenary. He'd never expected such a spirituality.

He heard a slight commotion before him, eliciting his gaze to return to the assassin. But he wasn't there. He was gone, like a breath in the wind.

He furrowed his brow. That signaled that he would need to leave soon, as well. One could never risk being in one place for too long.

Jerrith turned on his heel, heading off in the opposite direction. Wherever the assassin was going, he wished him luck...

He didn't even know his name.

* * *

_Tali: Really? What kind of doctor does that?_

_You: I don't know. Whoever he is, he knows what he's doing. I'm guessing he's former STG. He's definitely secretive, but friendly. I've been told he can be trusted... if I don't screw with him._

_Tali: You've been told? I hope you can imagine what I feel about this._

_You: He can't be that bad. He was practically handing out vaccines on Omega._

_Tali: True, but what if there is something underneath that benevolent attitude? Are you absolutely sure you can trust him?_

_You: Not quite yet, but it's nothing I haven't dealt with before._

_Tali: Just be careful._

_You: I will._

An awkward pause. Shepard racked his brain for another subject, but to no avail.

_Tali: Who are you going to recruit now?_

_You: Someone with the peculiar moniker "Archangel". No idea who he is. I guess I'll find out, huh?_

_Tali: Seriously. Be careful._

_You: You worry too much. Haven't I always found my way out of impossible situations?_

_Tali: No._

_You: ...Sorry._

_Tali: Just don't underestimate anyone. I don't want to lose you again._

_You: I get it. I'll stay focused._

_Tali: Thank you. I'm afraid I'll have to be going now. I need to catch up on sleep before father schedules another "Admiral training session"_

_You: Sweet dreams._

_Tali: Getting there._

The chat disconnected shortly after, prompting Shepard to disengage his own omnitool and divert his attention out the shuttle window. The buildings and towers jutting out from above were expertly dodge and maneuvered around by the batarian pilot, who took no interest in making small talk with Shepard or anyone else in the shuttle. Jacob's eyes darted from side to side nervously, while Miranda and Mordin reserved a calm and quiet posture.

Somehow, Shepard admired Mordin's collected disposition. If there was one thing Shepard could deduce from the brief time he'd know the salarian, he was quiescent, but also aloof and somewhat mysterious.

He was going to engage him in conversation, but the shuttle pilot cut him off.

"We're here."

The spot the pilot landed in was no less dingy than any other part of Omega, poorly lit, and leading to an ominous, darker corridor.

If there was one thing Shepard didn't expect, it was that even the dark underbelly of the galaxy had its own dark underbelly.

Summoning a rough idea about what could have transpired in these disheveled hallways elicited a lingering revulsion of the place. Somewhere, in these dilapidated passages was Archangel, fighting for his life with no way out. There was little hope for the mercenary, yet Shepard and his team may just be the break Archangel needs to slip away; hopefully, onto the Normandy.

Facing Shepard with a seemingly angry glare, the batarian crossed his arms. "It's about time they sent me someone who looks like they can actually fight. They tell you what we're up against?"

Seeing the merit in prodding for as much information as he can get, Shepard replied. "The recruiter was a little vague."

"We wouldn't get many hires if everyone knew the truth" the batarian divulged, revealing the tips of sharp teeth with a small sneer.

"Right..." Shepard muttered, nodding slightly. "Sending freelancers to certain doom with the offer of good pay. And on Omega, no one's the wiser."

"Piss and moan about it all you want." the batarian retaliated bitterly. "This is the mercenary's rule of Omega in practice. Send in the weaker links first, then bring out the big guns. Whittle your target down to their very last tidbit of energy, then overwhelm them with crushing force... It's effective, not ethical. No one on this rock cares about ethical."

"I figured that out when I first set foot in Afterlife." Shepard snorted, unimpressed. "Anyway, where is this 'Archangel' located?"

"Archangel's holed up in a building at the end of the boulevard over there. He's got superior position, and the only way in is over a very exposed bridge. It's a killing ground."

Another wicked grin creased the batarian's ugly face. "But he's getting tired, making mistakes. We'll have him soon enough."

"I'm guessing that this is where that 'mercenary's rule' plan comes into play?", Shepard declared skeptically.

"Not exactly.", the batarian affirmed confidently. "If for whatever reason, we can't break through his front line, a small team is waiting to infiltrate his hideout. We just need to draw his fire so they can move in."

"By 'we' you mean us.", Shepard answered for the pilot.

"Exactly. You'll be on a distraction team. Head straight over the bridge and keep Archangel busy so the infiltration team can sneak in behind him.

From his left, Shepard could see Jacob furrow his brow in disbelief. "Sounds like a suicide mission to me."

The batarian shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. "Pretty much. But you look like you can handle it. Head up to the boulevard and get to the third barricade. Talk to Sergeant Cathka. He'll tell you when to go in."

"Got it.", Shepard said, allowing the batarian to return to the skycar. As he took a seat inside, he stole one last glance at Shepard.

"Watch yourself on the boulevard. Archangel's killed dozens out there already."

As the skycar coasted away, a single voice expressed its apprehension.

"Getting in, easy enough. Getting out..." After a sharp inhale through the nose, a brief pause. "Problematic."

Shepard turned to face Mordin.

"One step at a time. For now, let's go find Cathka."

* * *

"_Sergeant _Cathka."

The batarian clicked a small command on his helmet display, the dark tint obstructing his clear view vanishing to reveal four sets of eyes.

"Eh. You must be the group Salkie mentioned. You're just in time. The infiltration team is about to give us the signal. Archangel won't know what hit him."

Cathka stepped away from the gunship he was repairing to grab a cigarette on the table behind him. Shepard noticed a live momentum dampener close to where the cigarette had been lain.

Eyeing it closely before redirecting his attention to the tobacco smoke Cathka had just blown in his face, Shepard waved the malodorous smoke away.

"Are you leading the assault?"

Cathka bellowed a loud, genuine chuckle at Shepard's inquiry. "Ha! Tarak doesn't pay me to fight. I just plan the attacks and fix the damn gunship. You freelancers get the privilege of-"

A boisterous alarm resounded from the terminal to Cathka's left, drawing his attention to the urgent message that was splayed across the screen.

"Check. Bravo team- go, go, go!"

Prompted by Cathka's order, the freelancers closest to Shepard and his team snatched up their weapons and jogged to the front barricade where other freelancers were already congregating.

Out of the corner of Shepard's eye, he could see Cathka disengage the terminal with a mischievous grin on his face.

"Archangel's got quite a surprise waiting for him. But, that means no more waiting for me."

The tint in Cathka's visor returned as he grabbed his blowtorch and continued his work on the gunship.

"Gotta get her back to a hundred percent before Tarak decides he needs her again."

A thought raced in Shepard's mind. If Cathka finished repairing the gunship, that would mean trying to make an escape would prove to be all too difficult. If Cathka brought that gunship back up to fighting capability, there was no way Shepard could get Archangel out alive, let alone he and his squad, as well.

He'd have to do something about the gunship; quick.

Then he remembered the live momentum dampener on the table. The electric charge would produce as much as a 120-volt charge if it came into direct contact with something. Either Cathka would die, or he'd never walk again.

But Archangel was too high a priority. Shepard couldn't risk it.

As it channeled electricity between its two prongs, Shepard gingerly clutched it by the handle, approaching Cathka with a cautious stroll. Catching sight of Shepard, Cathka turned to him, as if confused as to why he was still here.

"You're working too hard."

Cathka spontaneously convulsed violently, screaming as the electric shock fried him from the inside. Shepard fled the side of Cathka's writhing body, Mordin, Jacob, and Miranda following close behind.

"Doesn't look like Archangel's got much time.", Jacob mentioned, trying to ignore the batarian's singed corpse.

"Let's not wait around too long.", Miranda suggested from behind him.

Popping his knuckles in anticipation, Shepard smiled. "Come on. Let's give these guys a surprise of our own."

* * *

He couldn't believe what he was seeing. He wasn't sure if they were mercs, freelancers, or soldiers. They blasted their way through the back lines of the other freelancers, and any that tried to fire back were gunned down before they could pull the trigger. But then he found something familiar adorning one their armor sets. The human elite soldier division number 'N7' was imprinted proudly on the chest of the gunman in front. He seemed to be their leader.

Whoever they were, he didn't have the privilege of turning down a potential ally. He'd decided he'd try to cover the team while they fought their way up to him.

As he scoped in, he strafed his aim to the human leader's face. What he saw both shocked and elated him. The man whom had relentlessly and mercilessly hunted down the rogue Spectre Saren two years ago was there, in the flesh. To see him firing his assault rifle was like staring into a glimpse of the past, of the old days, when Shepard was more than just a ghost of inspiration to millions of people. But he wasn't a ghost anymore.

He blinked repeatedly, trying to convince himself that it was someone else, a hallucination before he finally gave up and was killed by a mercenary. But his vision remained true.

He forced himself to forget it for now, and resume his fire. He'd find out soon enough whether Shepard was back from the dead or not.

* * *

A pneumatic hiss of the door revealed the crouching marksman, aiming to take the last life on the bridge before him.

Shepard lowered his weapon, cautiously calling his name before he drew closer. "Archangel?"

Archangel silently pleaded for one more second with a rise of a single finger. Within a short moment, he pulled the trigger, a gurgling groan from below ringing out almost immediately after.

Noting that the last threat had fallen, Archangel let the stock of his rifle fall to the ground, using it as leverage to push himself to his feet.

Only then did Shepard notice that the marksman was a turian. That explains how he'd managed to survive so long. Turians had an inclination for being the best shots.

Archangel strolled casually to the center of the room, removing his helmet and resting it on the ottoman directly across from Shepard.

Shepard beamed from ear to ear as a familiar face emerged from beneath the helmet, and an even more familiar voice utter his name.

The turian perched himself on the arm of the ottoman, locking Shepard in a gaze of disbelief.

"Shepard... I thought you were dead."

Shepard threw his arms out to his sides. "Garrus! What are you doing here?"

Garrus did not return Shepard's elation. If anything, he seemed more depressed than usual. "Just keeping my skills sharp. A little target practice."

Shepard held him with a concerned glare. "You okay?"

Garrus shrugged. "Been better, but it sure is good to see a friendly face. Killing mercs is hard work, especially on my own."

Deciding that another time may be more appropriate than now to demand answers, Shepard changed the subject. "So how did you end up all the way out here, on Omega?"

Garrus shook his head, as if still bitter about the situation. "I got fed up with all the bureaucratic crap on the Citadel. Figured I could do more good on my own. At least it's not hard to find criminals here. All I have to do is point my gun and shoot."

"Sounds like your kind of playground, Garrus."

At that, Shepard could see a crack of tiny smile. "My thoughts exactly."

"Well, we got here. But I don't think getting out will be as easy."

Garrus slid himself off from the arm of the chair, and to his feet. "No, it won't. That bridge has saved my life... funneling all those witless idiots into scope."

Garrus averted his watch to the bridge, continuing. "But it works both ways. They'll slaughter us if we try to get out that way."

Miranda piped up from behind Shepard. "So we just sit here and wait for them to take us out?"

Garrus shook his head. "It's not all that bad.", he muttered sarcastically.

"And.. with the four of you... I suggest we hold this location, wait for a crack in their defenses, and take our chances."

Garrus watched Shepard for approval. "It's not a perfect plan, but it's a plan."

Shepard nodded. This could work. If Garrus was able to hold off for this long by himself, they could definitely open a hole for themselves to escape through.

"If we fight as a team, we'll hold them off."

"You're right.", Garrus responded. "Their numbers won't help them in here, anyway."

Again, he shot a glance to the bridge. "Let's see what they're up to."

He raised his rifle to peer through the scope.

"Hmm", Garrus hummed as he acknowledged the gravity of the situation. "Looks like they know their infiltration team failed."

Garrus handed the rifle to Shepard, on his left. "Take a look. Scouts. Eclipse, I think."

Mechs dropped down onto the bridge from the barricade, unsheathing their machine pistols as they did.

"That looks like a lot more than scouts.", Shepard alluded as he returned the rifle to its owner.

"Indeed...", Garrus pondered. "We better get ready."

The turian primed his firearm, an audible click resounding from inside the chamber. "I'll stay up here. I can do a lot of damage from this vantage point."

"And you... you can do what you do best."

Shepard nodded, grabbing his assault rifle by the stock and allowing it to expand in his hands.

"Just like old times, Shepard."

A grin spread across his face.

"Just like old times."

* * *

Kaidan wiped away the sweat from his brow. Out of all the things he could be doing on Horizon, he's picking tomatoes and digging up onions.

Despite the distrust almost every resident of Horizon has expressed to him and Ashley almost every chance they got, the two Alliance soldiers were earning their keep around here rather quickly.

They weren't afraid of hard work. Especially work that didn't involve risking your life and lugging a heavy gun around everywhere you go.

It was a strange, yet enjoyable change of pace from regular Alliance commissions.

Their initial reason for being on Horizon was to repair the defense turret, which has been inoperable for quite some time. There was also the 'improving Alliance relations with human colonies' part, as well. But that was on more of a need-to-know basis.

There were still a select few colonists on Horizon that still didn't trust Kaidan and Ashley. People like Delan. Stubborn people. But the others were okay. Reasonable people. People like Ashley and himself.

It was hot today. It was always hot on Horizon. Even at night, trying to enjoy the silence was overshadowed by the irritating heat. Kaidan preferred to enjoy nights inside, with the air conditioner on high power.

He wiped more sweat from his face. At least the breeze felt nice.

As he bent down to resume his labor, a voice from across the colony called his name. Diverting his attention to the direction of the voice, he saw Ashley making a steady jog toward him.

Seeing the distraught look on her face, he furrowed his brow in concern. He hadn't seen that look for a while.

Coming within close earshot, Ashley panted between words as she activated her omnitool.

"You're... not gonna... believe this..."

Kaidan dropped his tools on the ground. "Why? What happened? Is something wrong?"

"Just tell me what you think... of this..."

Kaidan turned himself so that he could see the display of Ashley's omnitool.

It was a page of Galactic News, with a familiar name slapped onto nearly seven different columns. 'Shepard'. But one large column caught Kaidan's attention. It displayed a picture of...

Kaidan's jaw dropped at the sight of the picture. The news article displayed an unedited photo of Commander Shepard making his way through the Afterlife club on Omega, two unknown individuals trailing closely behind him.

Despite a couple of strange, glowing scars cutting through Shepard's visage, there was no denying the uncanny resemblance.

Having finally caught her breath, Ashley pleaded with Kaidan, refusing to believe her eyes.

"Please tell me that isn't who I think it is."

Kaidan shut his eyes closed, shaking his head. "It is. Looks just like him. I really can't believe it myself, either."

"B- but how is it even possible?", Ashley demanded. "They only found bits and pieces of the Normandy. There's no way he could have survived that. No way... And look at this."

She pointed to another picture, showing a front view of the two humans following Shepard. "Look at their outfits. See that symbol?"

Kaidan slanted his eyes at the white and gold emblem. "Cerberus.", he spat malevolently.

"Right." Ashley returned, just as bitter. "I've even caught Alliance transmissions talking about it. They seem to be totally convinced that he's working for Cerberus now."

Kaidan exhaled heavily. "None of this makes any sense."

Sparing no time to agree with him, Ashley blurted out Kaidan's worst fear.

"Do you think Tali knows?"

A silence hung above them like a ghost for nearly a minute.

Clearing his head, Kaidan squeezed her arm gingerly. "Let's just see how this all plays out. If it's something serious, we're going to hear more of it. If it gets to be that way, we'll contact her about it. Granted, she doesn't already know."

Ashley nodded as she deactivated the omnitool.

Kaidan gripped her tighter. "Don't lose sleep over this. We've still got work to do."


End file.
